Tea Scones and Ice Cream Sundaes
by Charli Petidei
Summary: Bored Englishman Arthur Kirkland runs a quaint little teashop slap-bang in the middle of a bustling shopping centre full of people. But one day his peaceful existence is shattered when a loud mouthed American named Alfred Jones steps inside his shop, demanding to know why they don't sell coffee. And in that one out-of-the-ordinary moment, there goes normality for Arthur - forever.
1. Of Gay Bars And Radioactive Spiders

_Tea, Scones and Ice Cream Sundaes_

USUK, modern day AU.

Rated M for future chapters.

Warnings: Language, slash pairings, mentions of abuse,

Chapter One: Of gay bars and radioactive spiders

Enjoy~!

_Tat-a-tat-tat._

Arthur Kirkland's eyes snapped open as he heard the sound of someone knocking at the teashop's back door. The Briton was slumped in a wooden chair in the TeaFairy, his head lying face down on a table, his tousled hair shielding his face from sight. It was seven o'clock in the morning but Arthur had been there for hours. He was still wearing the teashop uniform from yesterday, his messy blonde hair was unbrushed and his eyes were dull with lack of sleep. Arthur raised his head from the table and rubbed his eyes sleepily. There were lines on his chin from where he'd been lying on the table's edge.

_Tat-a-tat-tat._

Arthur's features pulled into a scowl. There was only one person in the world who knocked at the door like _that_ at this time in the morning. He slowly got up from the table and walked over to the back door. The person outside knocked again and Arthur kicked the door irritably.

"I'm coming already Francis!" he growled.

"That's what she said," came a faint murmur from outside. Arthur scowled again. It was going to be one of those days, he could tell.

He quickly combed his fingers through his hair, decided the stupid Frenchman deserved to wait outside in the cold for a bit longer, then went back into the main part of the teashop, reached behind the counter for the TeaFairy apron which he tied easily around him, before finally returning and unlatching the door.

There stood Francis Bonnefoy, a man in his early twenties with long shaggy blonde hair, a meticulously trimmed stubble, and a mischievous grin on his face. He was wearing a baker's apron and carrying a large crate, and shivering slightly from the cold - Arthur noticed with a satisfied smirk.

"Ah, mon ami! You took a long time getting to the door this morning! Are you feeling alright? Tu es un peu fatigué, non?" Francis asked, stepping inside the teashop, uncomfortably close to Arthur, who pointedly backed up.

"One, I'm not your friend. Two, stop speaking French, it's irritating. Three, I took a long time to get to the door because I do not wait on your arrival every morning. And four, I'm feeling _fine_," Arthur summarised, walking back inside the teashop to stand behind the counter. Francis followed him in, and heaved the crate onto the counter.

"Just as I thought then, you're in a bad mood today. Did Gilbert hide one of your unicorn plushies again?" Francis asked, smirking, as he started to unpack the contents of the crate and dump them on the counter. Arthur blushed.

"Charlie was not 'hidden', that was abduction, pure and simple."

Francis waved a hand dismissively and Arthur scowled. He decided to change the subject.

"So, er, what have you brought today?" he asked, pulling a small paper bag out of the crate, opening it slightly and sniffing the contents with a dubious expression.

"Same as usual," Francis answered, as he continued to unpack the crate. "Those hideous scone things you insist on ordering everyday. My gorgeous croissants because as much as you hate to admit it, they're popular here. Some lemon drizzle cakes, a few Bakewell tarts, my divine cupcakes, a handful of Andersen's Danish pastries... White chocolate cookies. Bannoffee muffins. And of course, my fabulous self, at your service!" Francis answered, taking the last package out of the crate and whipping the crate off the counter with a flourish. Arthur surreptitiously closed the paper bag he'd sniffed and folded over the top as he put it back on the counter.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. The last thing can bugger off though. I can't sell _you_ to customers," he said grumpily, stowing some of the various cakes away into the glass case by the counter.

"Oh, but I'm sure some of your customers would be _very _willing to buy me," Francis teased with a flirtatious toss of his head.

"If only getting rid of you was that easy," Arthur replied smoothly without looking up.

"Oh, you'll never get rid of me, mon cher," Francis declared, tickling Arthur's neck, who scowled and slapped his hand away.

"God help me," Arthur muttered. Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you in such a bad mood today?" he asked, trying to stroke Arthur's hair and getting shoved away forcefully.

"I'm not. It's natural for me to feel bogged down when your stupid froggy face is so near to me," Arthur snapped.

"Ouch," Francis said, taking a step back. Arthur glowered at him and Francis' lips curved upwards in a devious grin. "But it wasn't always like that," he said mischievously. Arthur pulled a carton of milk from the fridge.

"How do you mean?" he asked, regretting rising to Francis' bait instantly as he wrestled a mug from a crowded cupboard and dumped a heaped teaspoon of sugar into it.

"Are you forgetting all the magical times we shared together in my bedroom?" Francis asked with a smirk. Arthur nearly dropped the pot of sugar.

"I- I am constantly doing my best to do just that. And for good reason," he stammered, trying not to blush and failing. Francis chuckled softly as Arthur turned away and replaced the oversized sugar pot on the counter. Francis reached out, grabbed Arthur's chin, turned the blonde's head towards him, and examined his face carefully.

"Were you here overnight again?" he asked, searching his face and finding some sort of clue. Arthur started guiltily.

"No," he fibbed, jerking away from Francis' hand.

"You know I know you too well to lie to me," Francis scolded softly. "What happened?"

"I, er..." Arthur started.

"Come on, tell me. I asked Andersen to put some cakes in the oven back at the bakery and I don't trust him not to burn them. I need to get back there fairly soon," Francis said. Arthur scowled.

"Fine. Gilbert dropped by at the end of my shift and dragged me off to this random gay bar with him. And I was still in my uniform, would you believe?! And so I got drunk trying to convince some Polish transvestite I wasn't homosexual while Gil went off with a stranger. I woke up lying in a nearby club's bathroom and by then it was four in the morning. I just came straight here. Don't know where Gilbert went though," Arthur explained. Francis chuckled softly.

"Oh, you are funny. And Gilbert's fine, he turned up at Toni's an hour ago. Drunk as hell and smelling of rhubarb for some reason, but otherwise unharmed. You don't need to worry about him," Francis said.

"I wasn't going to worry. The wanker always turns up eventually," Arthur replied. "Now stop talking so much, I need to make tea."

"Is caffeine really what you need at this time in the morning?"

"Cannot. Function. Without. Morning. Tea," Arthur said decidedly with a forceful '_isn't it obvious?_' glance in Francis' direction. He took a teabag from a jar and placed it in the mug, before filling the kettle with water and flicking the switch to turn it on.

"I don't understand why you don't just use your industrial size tea maker thing to make yourself a cup of tea," Francis stated, eyeing the heavy tin contraption in the corner.

"There's only one of me to make tea for - that thing makes about fifty at the same time. And I personally like making my own tea myself. Problem?" Arthur answered. He turned to face Francis and leant against the counter.

"Not at all, mon cher." Francis smiled. "I think _you_ have a problem though. I think that you're lonely."

"What makes you think_ I_ have a problem?" Arthur asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes into emerald slits.

"I think you need someone to care for you," Francis carried on.

"I don't need anybody else," Arthur interrupted shortly, folding his arms.

"Nonsense. You, mon ami, need a lover to share your hopes and dreams with. Someone to spend time with. Someone to love you and care for you for the rest of your life. Ah, I am sure fate will bring them to you eventually, but for now I guess you'll just have to wait..." Francis sighed.

"Yeah, well fate can bugger off because it hasn't done anything for me so far," Arthur replied, eyes on the steaming kettle.

"Maybe your future lover is right under your nose. Maybe even...standing where I am now," Francis said with a wink.

Arthur looked distastefully at him. "You can bugger off too."

"No, I mean it. You're lonely and so am I. We should try again," Francis said.

"I've told you before, I'm not gay," Arthur huffed dismissively.

"Oh Artie, you know you're lying," Francis teased.

"I know I'm not. We never had a relationship. We never will," Arthur said determinedly. Francis sighed, a smirk on face. Arthur glared at him. "And anyway, you don't do relationships. You can't do relationships."

"Maybe I've changed."

"Maybe the Queen breakdances to dubstep in the royal drawing room every Friday night."

Francis grinned. "She might do," he said, starting to laugh until Arthur affixed him with a murderous glare that made him stop mid-chuckle. He grinned at Brit. "But Artie, do you not remember all the good times we shared together?" he said, nudging him. There was a pause.

"I made some mistakes when I was younger," Arthur answered, looking away. Francis grinned deviously at him.

"Well, I happen to think that some of them were quite good mistakes..." he said, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. At that moment the kettle boiled, and Arthur turned again to pour the water into his mug, glad of the distraction. After he'd set the kettle back down, he reached for the milk and poured some into the mug. He stood in the corner of the teashop, wedged into the right angle where two countertops met, idly stirring his tea.

"Give me one example of something I did in my teens that was a good decision," he challenged, still not facing Francis.

"I can think of many things. Our relationship was a very good decision on your part-" Francis started. Arthur scowled and cut him off.

"It was not a relationship! It was a couple of nights. And they were the biggest mistakes of my life," Arthur said shortly. "Try again." Francis creased his forehead up in concentration and stepped closer to Arthur.

"Well. I have to say. the green Mohican you had when you were 18, really, really did suit you," Francis said. He walked closer towards Arthur, until he was standing right behind him so that Arthur was trapped between him and the counter. "Your punk phase was simply _adorable_, darling." He tickled the back of Arthur's neck. "And it was such a shame when you took your eyebrow piercing out." He started idly tracing a finger down Arthur's spine, who shivered but couldn't pull away. Francis' finger stopped just above Arthur's tailbone, resting suggestively on the top of his jeans. "It was terribly cute when you stood up in front of the whole college and screamed that you weren't homosexual into the headmaster's microphone. That was a good decision - I won the bet I made with Gil and Toni over what percentage of the student body would still think you were straight by graduation."

Arthur made an angry noise and went to interrupt, but Francis cut him off. "It was 4%, for your information. Your outburst that day killed off 30% of the people who still believed you were straight," Francis said. Arthur angrily clenched his hands into fists, seething inwardly. "Oh, and finally, I have always found that tattoo of an electric guitar on your tailbone very, _very_ sexy."

"Piss off!" Arthur cried, blushing bright red but still unable to pull away.

"I believe..." Francis moved his finger further down. "If I remember rightly...That it is about..._here_, is it not?" He tapped the spot mischievously and started to laugh.

Arthur hissed angrily and whipped his foot up rapidly, heel connecting forcefully with Francis' groin.

Francis fell to his knees in pain as Arthur turned around and pushed past him, holding his mug of tea to his body as if it were a lifeline.

"Get out of my shop, Francis," he growled. Francis slowly got to his feet, hands protectively curled around his crotch, still laughing breathlessly.

"Oh Arthur, you're so mean to me," he said, grinning.

"Get. Out."

"I did nothing wrong," Francis chuckled.

"I mean it," Arthur growled. "Or I will happily kick you where it hurts again. Harder."

"You don't mean that, Arthur," Francis said, grinning.

"Out!" Arthur nearly screamed. Francis straightened up and picked the crate up from the floor. Arthur aimed another kick at him and the Frenchman dodged out of the way, a devious expression on his face.

"Ok, ok, I'm leaving!" he assured Arthur. He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the back door. "But I mean it about the tattoo. It's definitely one of your best mistakes!" he called quickly, before whipping his head back around the corner in anticipation of another onslaught. Arthur watched with a murderous expression on his face as the Frenchman vanished and the door opened and closed as he let himself out. Only when he'd gone did Arthur walk to the back door and lock it behind him.

"Idiot frog. That tattoo was not a mistake," he murmured under his breath.

An hour or so later as Arthur stood in the kitchen wiping down the counter, he heard a rattling at the TeaShop's back door as someone pushed a key into the lock and let themselves in. Arthur sighed and dumped the dishcloth he'd been using back onto the counter. Another person to spoil the peace.

"Hey Artie, I brought squirty cream!"

A girl's voice floated into the shop in greeting. Arthur frowned in confusion and exasperation.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with cream?!" he asked incredulously.

"Hey, it's not just any cream, this is Sainsbury's finest squirty cream!" she called back. Various rustling noises ensued as she hung up her coat and kicked the piles of cardboard boxes crowding the back room out of her way.

"I don't care if it's 24 carot gold special edition cream - what are we going to do with it?" he called back irritably.

"Someone's in a bad mood today," she commented. Arthur just snorted, and watched as a 21 year old girl edged into the room. Her brown hair was bunched into two loose pigtails either side of her head with some bright red ribbon, and she wore a floaty blue dress that came down to her knees on her petite frame. She was shivering, arms clutched tightly around a can of whipped cream in her hands. She made a beeline straight for the teashop's radiator and flung herself across it with a relieved sigh.

"Morning, Michelle," Arthur said sarcastically, not expecting a reply. Michelle carried on hugging the radiator.

"Oh my God it's bloody freezing out there," she moaned. Arthur tutted.

"Then wear something that's not paper thin and comes down further than your knees," he said, returning his attention back to the dishcloth.

"But these are my working clothes. I can't break the habit and wear something different!" she cried, still attached to the radiator.

"Ooh, quel horreur," Arthur said sarcastically. That did get Michelle to look up. She raised her head off the radiator and fixed him with a disapproving look.

"Your French is bloody terrible," she commented, before flopping back down towards the warmth.

"Your common sense is bloody terrible," Arthur snorted, with a pointed look at her light summer dress.

"I can't change the fact that these are my working clothes! I've worked at the TeaFairy in these every weekend for the last year. I can't wear something else now," she explained.

"We live in England, not some remote island off the coast of Africa. Wearing a dress is fine here for summer, but we only get about a month of it a year and we won't even get that if last year was anything to go by. You may want to rethink," he lectured, rubbing at a chocolate smear on the counter.

"You sound like an old man," she murmured, words muffled.

"And you sound like a petulant child," he shot back, giving up with the chocolate stain and rinsing the dishcloth in the sink. Michelle ignored him. She slowly got off of the radiator and walked over to him, proudly plunking the can of cream on the counter. There was a pause.

"Well, what are we going to do with it?" Arthur asked, eyeing it distrustfully as if it were a bomb primed to go off.

"I thought we could serve a little bit with the chocolate cake and stuff. Just a little swirl next to it," she said brightly. Arthur huffed.

"Unnecessary," he said. Michelle rolled her eyes and poked him.

"I don't care. It's a nice touch," she said, putting the cream beside the overflowing stack of napkins on the counter. "Conversation closed."

Arthur scowled but didn't say anything. He rubbed at his eyes and flung the sodden dishcloth in the sink, shaking the drops of water off his hands.

"Francis told me about last night. You really should stop letting Gil just take you to random gay bars," Michelle said suddenly, as she opened the teashop's food case. "Ooh, cupcakes!"

"Get your head out of the display stand! And I couldn't do anything about it - Gilbert just showed up, grabbed my arm, and marched me off!" Arthur protested.

"You know you could have stopped him if you'd really wanted to," Michelle said distractedly, gazing longingly at the cakes in the glass display stand.

"You don't know what Gilbert's like," Arthur grumbled, dragging his hands through his hair to try and create something vaguely resembling a hairstyle and not just a mop of feathery blonde fluff.

"Uh, yes I do. I know Francis, and with Francis comes Toni and Gil. There's no ignoring their personalities when they're around," she said.

"Fair point," Arthur murmured. He crossed to the front of the shop and roughly flipped over the '_sorry, we're closed!_' sign so that it greeted customers with a bright '_come in, we're open!_'. He snorted at the overly cheery letters and walked back over to Michelle.

"So who's coming in to help out today?" he asked her.

"There's a timetable behind you," she answered. Arthur huffed and turned round to read it.

"Just don't expect me to stick around until late today, so if Peter or Flo don't bother to come in, you're going to have to stick it out and stay in alone," Michelle warned from behind him. Arthur ignored her, scanning the sheet.

"Well, Peter's scheduled to come in at ten, and Isla at two. Vi might drop in too at some point in the afternoon. Although I doubt Peter will be there on time," Arthur summarised.

"Oh, give him a break, Artie. You know he'll do anything to impress you and convince you that he's worthy of becoming a full time, paid worker here," Michelle chastised.

Arthur said nothing and turned back around, spotting a stray mug on the counter and grumpily stowing it away in a cupboard. His eyes flitted up to the clock - yup, nine o'clock.

And so began another day.

The morning passed uneventfully with only a small number of customers coming in; the only slight bit of drama occurring when Peter (who had mercifully come in on time that day) dropped a mug of tea on the floor and Arthur nearly burst a vein.

And so it was a complete surprise when a little after eleven o'clock, as Arthur was washing up a large stack of white cups and saucers by the sink, something completely unexpected happened.

There was a sudden bang as the teashop door was thrown open carelessly, sending the lethargic old bell into a frenzy of alarmed clanging, and everybody looked up in surprise. Arthur scowled at the lack of respect for his shop, looked up, and then found he could only stare, stunned, as a young man strode confidently into the teashop.

His mop of sandy blonde hair was so messy it didn't seem to have two strands pointing in the same direction. A little tuft of hair poked up noticeably at the front of his head and his light blue eyes gleamed mischievously from under his feathery hairline. He was wearing low slung jeans and his blue top, adorned with a yellow smiley face, was thrown casually over his well-built frame. A large brown bomber jacket was nonchalantly slung over his broad shoulders, and he grinned widely at the assembled company inside the Teashop as he entered.

"Howdy folks!" he greeted brightly. Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning up the mugs. Typical. An American.

The people in the teashop, who all seemed rather taken aback and alarmed by this stranger's overly cheerful greeting, slowly began to turn away and resume their conversations. The American grinned and walked up to the counter, placing his hands on the surface. Michelle smiled at him and headed towards him.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked.

Arthur realised he was staring again and turned away quickly, a faint blush on his face. He abruptly became very interested in a non-existent stain on the handle of the mug he was holding and rubbed at it vigorously.

"Hello miss! Yes, I'd love a coffee actually, strong, black, three sugars, please," the man said cheerfully. Michelle froze and there was an awkward silence.

"Um, I'm sorry sir, we er...we don't sell coffee here," Michelle said carefully. The man's eyes widened.

"What?" he asked disbelievingly. Michelle faltered.

"Uh... We're a teashop... I'm afraid we only sell tea and cakes. You won't find any coffee here," she told him.

"You can't run a shop without coffee!" he spluttered indignantly. Arthur could tell by Michelle's expression she wasn't sure how to react. And then he realised he was looking at them again and determinedly turned away.

"Uh... I'm sorry sir, I really am. But...this is a teashop. You can get good coffee from Starbucks, they're get close to us-"

"I don't want to go to Starbucks! The manager there's a jerk!" the man insisted. Michelle bit her lip and turned around to find Arthur's eyes, shooting him a desperate look that clearly said 'help me!'.

Dammit, he was looking at the man again.

Arthur took a deep breath and exhaled, knowing he was going to regret this. And then straightened his apron and walked over to Michelle and the customer.

"Er, hello. Can I help?" he asked politely. The man beamed at him.

"Alfred Jones, pleased to meet you," he enthused, sticking out a hand. Arthur quirked an eyebrow but realised the sooner he got rid of this American the sooner he could return to normality. He shook Alfred's hand quickly as if not wanting to touch him overly.

"Uh-likewise. My name's Arthur Kirkland - I, er, I run the TeaFairy," he said. "Is there anything I can help you with?" He was vaguely aware of Michelle slowly edging away from him and Alfred. She obviously didn't want to be caught up in this. _Thanks a bunch, Michelle_, Arthur thought.

"Yeah... How come you don't sell coffee?" Alfred asked, bright blue eyes fixing Arthur to the spot. Arthur's words stumbled out of his mouth.

"W-we are a Teashop, and-er...our whole premise is that of selling exclusively tea. I'm sorry, but I think you might need to-to, find somewhere else if you..." Arthur trailed off as he became aware that Alfred was gazing intently at him.

"What?" he snapped, a little harsher than he had intended. Alfred grinned.

"I'm just looking at you. Arthur," he said, and Arthur flushed, provoking another wide grin from Alfred.

"But, er... If you want a coffee I'm afraid you'll have to find somewhere else..." Arthur said quickly. Alfred quirked his head to one side and smiled.

"Oh, that's ok," he said. There was an awkward silence in which Arthur fiddled uncomfortably with his apron strings. Alfred was still staring at him and frankly his unwavering gaze was starting to unnerve him.

Arthur decided to try and be professional about this. He flicked his hair from his eyes and put a hand on his hip.

"Have you-er... Do you have any other questions?" he asked briskly. Perhaps he could at least get Alfred to leave.

But Alfred just fixed his grin back into place."Yeah. Fancy going for a drink?"

Any attempts at professionalism shrivelled and died.

"I-I'm sorry?!" Arthur gasped.

"I said, d'ya want to go for a drink?"

"N-no! What sort of question is that?! No-now order something or get out of my shop!" Arthur cried, feeling his face go bright red. Alfred grinned at him.

"Okay. Second option. I'll have a tea then. And a, er, a muffin thingy. Please," Alfred asked. He added an angelic smile on the end of his words as if that would make Arthur weaken. In fact it just made him redden further and forget what he was going to say.

"Uh, uhm, sure, I er... Yeah," Arthur stuttered out. He turned abruptly and busied himself with making tea. Despite Alfred not specifying what sort of tea he wanted, Arthur was not about to turn back and ask. To be honest, Alfred's blatantly interested gaze and distracting smile were effectively fixing him to the spot and Arthur was afraid if he met his eyes again he wouldn't be able to look away.

Wanker. Arthur decided to give Alfred the cheapest drink available.

He busily set about grabbing a teabag and a cup, clicking the switch on the water boiler to turn it on, pouring milk into a tiny jug and setting that, with a teapot and cup, on a tray. As an afterthought, he added a spoon. He grabbed a muffin from the food case and put that on separate plate, and when the water had boiled he poured it into the teapot and dumped a couple of teabags into it in a practiced movement. He told himself he was imagining the shaking of his hands.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Alfred was watching him intently and blushed again.

He pushed the tray towards Alfred and scowled when the American smiled brightly at him.

"£4.49," he said simply. Alfred pulled a beaten-up old wallet from a pocket and fished inside for the money, before handing it over, taking the change with a smile, and picking the tray up.

"Cheers Arthur," he said, then with a last bright grin that made Arthur's knees weaken irritatingly, he turned and placed the tray down on the nearest table, then sank into the chair and pulled the muffin towards him eagerly.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to go back into the back room, and found himself face to face with a smug-looking Michelle.

"What?" he snapped, already irritated by the American and fast becoming pissed off by Michelle's expression.

Michelle quirked her eyebrows. "Getting asked out by a male customer. That must be a first for you," she said mischievously. Arthur glared at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed.

Michelle grinned. "He's kinda hot though, don't you think?"

Arthur went red. "Don't be absurd!"

He pushed past her and stalked into the back room, sat down heavily on a cardboard box, and folded his arms.

Michelle followed him and smirked. "What are you doing?"

"Staying out of his sight until he goes," Arthur answered. "Now go serve some customers. Peter can't do it on his own."

Michelle rolled her eyes with a grin and walked back into the Teashop. Arthur huffed irritatedly and kicked the wall. The wall made an ominous hollow sound and Arthur quickly withdrew his foot.

The shop was falling apart. Yes, it was built by the council and was technically structurally sound, the thin wall put up to separate the shop from the back room was more than a little unstable and there were huge networks of cracks in the ceiling. The front of the shop where customers sat was fine, nicely decorated and clean, but behind the scenes, the back room was littered with cardboard boxes and junk, the wallpaper was peeling horrifically, and cobwebs were clustered over the ceiling. Arthur had done his best, going at it with a feather duster, an army of bin bags, and litres of fresh paint, but somehow, it never seemed to do anything.

The space where the shop now was, had been vacant for a year or so before Arthur had bought it, derelict and empty, and the council had made up their minds to rebuild it, but Arthur was in need of a cheap space to set up a little business, and knew that if he waited until it had been revamped, it would be much more expensive. So Arthur had bought it quickly, turned it into a little Teashop, and done his best from then on. Sure, he had to have inspectors coming in every few months to check the place was free of damp, stable and safe for customers, and the back room was a little dismal, but Arthur had a business going, had loyal customers that supported him, good working staff (mostly), and an income. And the TeaFairy was his second home. In fact he felt more comfortable sitting here in the shop than he did in his miniature apartment nearby. Arthur had put his all into the shop, and though it had paid for itself many times over, it was starting to show signs that it desperately needed help.

Arthur was just hoping the shop would at least survive as long as he needed it.

He was brought back to the present by an abrupt squeal from the teashop. He knew immediately it was Michelle, but as to the cause... With a sigh, he got up and peeked around the side of the wall in an attempt to find the cause of the problem without being seen by Alfred.

Arthur wondered momentarily why he was worried do much about Alfred seeing him, then thought back to the American's cheerfully forward, mortifying words, and remembered.

'Fancy going for a drink?'

And that bright unwavering smile, as if Arthur was the only person Alfred had ever wanted to see. Idiot.

Arthur scanned the Teashop, and with a pang of irritation and another emotion he couldn't place, his eyes met Alfred's, who was sitting down at the table with muffin crumbs and a nonchalant grin smeared across his face. It was as if he had been waiting for Arthur to reappear solely with the intention of smiling inanely at him.

Arthur scowled directly at him before looking away to find the source of the scream.

Michelle was standing with her back pressed to the counter, arms raised in fright, eyes focused on a point on the work surface by the wall between the back room and the teashop... Peter stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, as if trying to comfort her.

Arthur made his way over. "What?" he asked tiredly. Peter looked at him, blonde hair bouncing with the movement.

"There's a spider on the work surface," he explained. "Shelle got spooked and nearly knocked the water boiler over."

There was a pause, then Arthur clapped a hand to his forehead and sighed. "Not again."

Peter shrugged. "Come on, it was over a week ago that that last happened."

"Michelle, you're supposed to be from the Seychelles - surely you had massive snakes and spiders there," Arthur said exasperatedly. Michelle fixed her eyes on him.

"That doesn't mean I had to_ like_ them! Now just get rid of it!" she squeaked.

Arthur took a deep breath, cursed his colleagues for being such wimps, then crossed over and scanned the surface for the offending insect.

"Where?" he sighed. "I don't see-oh Jesus fucking Christ!" Arthur leaped away as if burned. "It's green!"

A spider crawled out from its hiding place behind the water boiler. It was only small, but it had a large white growth on its back and it was also green_. Fucking green. _Horrified, Arthur backed up.

And then, suddenly, from behind him, there was an eager cry of -"I'll save you!"- and as if Arthur's day couldn't get any worse, Alfred jumped up from his seat, raced over, located the spider on the surface, scooped it up in his hands, and then turned around, his blonde hair falling perfectly across his face.

He grinned at Arthur. "It's cute."

There was a distrustful silence. "It's _green_," Arthur hissed.

"Hey, maybe it's radioactive or something and I'm gonna turn into Spider-Man!" Alfred said enthusiastically.

"It BIT you?!" Michelle exclaimed, horrified.

"Oh! Well, er, no," Alfred said with a sheepish grin. "I guess I'm kinda glad. Imagine having to live everyday as a radioactive-induced superhero."

There was a dead silence and Arthur realised the entire teashop was watching the little melodrama. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on, and turned to Alfred.

"Just get rid of it, okay?" he murmured.

Alfred beamed at him and walked out of the shop, cradling his hands to his chest, as Michelle turned to Arthur.

"I thought you were fine with spiders...?"

"I am when they're not bloody 'radioactive' - er - I mean - green ones. You tell me it's normal to see a green spider?!"

"Sure it's normal, Artie. And it's not all green, it's abdomen was just green because it was pregnant. It's going to have spider babies!" Alfred called, coming back inside the shop.

Arthur stood stunned for a minute. "One, don't ever call me Artie! Two, it was green enough for me, okay? And three, I don't care if it was pregnant! That means more abnormal green arachnids in the world that I don't want! Tell me that's a good thing!" he said, turning on him.

Alfred grinned brightly, as if the smile was the only thing that deflected Arthur's comments, then walked over and sat down at his table again. "You're welcome for getting rid of the spider. You can repay me for my noble quest by coming to sit with me," he called.

Arthur went bright red and floundered for a minute. "What?!"

And then suddenly, somebody came up behind him and shoved him towards Alfred, who grinned. Mortified, Arthur turned around to face his assailant, and visibly deflated. "Oh, Virginia. You're in early," he said flatly.

A girl with caramel brown hair held in a side plait and freckles dotted all over her grinning face, beamed at him. "Yup, aren't you pleased to see me? And my name's Vi, not Virginia."

"Whatever. Peter, you can go home now, Vi's here," he called, still trying to keep the colour of his face - which was turning a dangerous shade of pink - under control.

Peter sighed. "Aww!"

Vi stepped towards Arthur and murmured softly into his ear so no one else would hear. "Arthur, when a handsome American saves from certain peril at the hands of a radioactive spider, grins at you like that, and asks you to sit with him, you accept, ok?" she whispered. Arthur felt as if his face was going to catch fire.

She insistently shoved him towards Alfred, and before Arthur could even reason with himself, he'd taken a few shaking steps forward and collapsed into the chair opposite Alfred, who beamed sunnily and indadvertedly lit up the whole room. Arthur turned around to face Vi with a pleading look, but she just grinned cheekily at him.

"It's okay, Peter can stay and cover for you," she said. Behind her, Peter's chest swelled at the thought of being asked to do something important.

Bright red in irritation, Arthur turned back around to face Alfred. Goddammit. Why did the world hate him today?

The American grinned, placed an elbow on the table and leaned forward towards Arthur, so close Arthur could smell the shampoo in his feathery hair, see every single eyelash framed individually against his eyelids, feel his gentle breath on his face, hear the brush of hair against his jacket, lose any grip on reality and find himself slowly spinning, drowning inside Alfred's bright blue, enchanting, bewitching eyes...

"Right. So how much sugar and milk should I add to my tea, Arthur?" Alfred asked with a smile so bright it made Arthur's head hurt.

Goddammit. Arthur knew he shouldn't have come to sit with him. Because if Alfred looked at him like that again, he would surely sink below the surface of the conflicting emotions suddenly fighting for attention in his heart. Where had these emotions come from? What was their purpose? When had Arthur started to feel like this? Who was Alfred to leave him speechless?

Why did the world hate him today?

-A.N-

Hi guys! My name is Charli Petidei, and welcome to Tea, Scones, and Ice Cream Sundaes.

This is a little USUK fic I've been working on for some time, and though I know the first chapter's insanely long, chapter will be less so in future XD

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, reviews are always welcome and constructive criticism much appreciated!

Love you all :)

Charli Petidei xxx


	2. Of Peach Schnapps and Aquired Tastes

Chapter Two: Of peach schnapps and acquired tastes

A.N. Well, hello again guys! This is the second chapter of my first fic posted on - Tea, Scones and Ice Cream Sundaes - which I shall now abbreviate to TSAICS for ease :D

I'm putting the author's notes at the beginning this time to thank all of you that have followed and favourited and posted reviews so far :) Thank you all so much! It means a lot to me~ *Hugs you all*

Sorry last chapter was so ridiculously long. This one is less so :)

Also, I'd like to tell you that this fanfic is part of a whole series of Hetalia stories I'm writing that intertwine together in the same universe- and as I have about ten of these going at the same time, I'm aiming to get the first chapter of each fic up and see which gets the biggest response so I can focus on it. This AU where all of the fics are centred is set around a real shopping centre in Milton Keynes in England called Centre MK, where I go regularly. The only shop involved in this AU that doesn't actually exist is, I'm afraid, the TeaFairy. But all the other fics are focused around real shops or cafés in Centre MK. The characters all have their own storylines, but weave in and out of the other fics as supporting characters. If anyone has read George Devalier's Hetalia fics, you'll understand what I mean with all the stories intertwining together. For the list of fanfics in this AU, check out my profile. It has a short summary of each fic, with the pairing it focuses on and its title. And every fic is tied to a song by English singer songwriter Gabrielle Aplin.

The song for TSAICS is 'Please Don't Say You Love Me." Check it out, it fits this story perfectly - especially with events in later chapters :)

If you're interested in some of the other characters in this fic and want to know their back stories, the other fics will be found outlined on my profile and I aim to get most of these uploaded soon. Feel free to message me and demand for me to update or post these fics if there's one or two you can't wait for.

Also, just to clear up any confusion, Michelle is the Seychelles, Vi is the British Virgin Islands, Flo is the Falkland islands, and Isla is the Isle of White. Peter is obviously Sealand :)

And concerning the green spider of last chapter, I actually found one yesterday, abseiling down the parasol of my outside table. I've posted a photo I took of it - so that's in my photos :3

Reviews always make me insanely happy :)

Right, I'll stop spamming you now and let you read :)

And hint hint, when I put the at the beginning of the chapter, it usually means the chapter will end on a cliffhanger :p

This fic is lighter than some of the others in this AU, but despite the fluff there is an edge of darkness. Sorry about that!

Enjoy~!

Arthur rubbed his forehead, wishing he was back in bed, and Alfred grinned sunnily at him. "I'm serious. How much milk and sugar do I need?" he asked.

Arthur forced a cough through the words building up at the back of his throat and put an elbow on the table.

Fine. If Alfred had invited him to sit with him, and Peter was going to cover Arthur's shift, and Vi was adamant he sit there, he was going to jolly well sit there.

Arthur had had about one hour of sleep the night before so he figured if he sat down for a minute with Alfred it might prevent him from falling asleep on the countertop like he had the week before, much to the amusement of his coworkers, Michelle in particular.

"Uh, depends. Do you...do you want it, uh, sweet?" Arthur asked, not quite meeting Alfred's eyes.

"Please!" the American said enthusiastically. He slid his tray towards Arthur slightly. "Do it for me?"

Arthur spluttered and went as if to make a disdainful retort; but was stopped in his tracks by Alfred leaning towards him and affixing him with such a kicked-puppy look that Arthur had to look away abruptly.

He huffed. "...Fine."

"Cheers, Artie!" Alfred said, snatching up the muffin from the tray and taking an overly large bite.

Arthur blinked at him.

"What did you just call me!?"

"Guy golled 'oo Arr-ee!" Alfred explained, mouth full of chocolate muffin. Arthur stared uncomprehendingly at him and Alfred swallowed noisily.

"I called you Artie," he amended. Arthur scowled at him.

"That's not my name!"

Alfred took another bite and fixed Arthur with a chocolatey grin.

"It can be my nickname for you! So I can call you that whenever I come back!" Alfred explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Arthur had a sudden urge to slam his own head down on the table and growl as his heart leapt annoyingly at Alfred's throwaway comment about seeing him again.

"Well, don't," he snapped. Alfred ignored his comment with another humongous bite of muffin and a bright grin.

Arthur shook his head and sighed. He picked up the teapot and expertly filled Alfred's cup, then poured a splash of milk in and took a packet of sugar from the centre of the table. He dumped the sugar in the tea and stirred it obstinately, determined not to meet Alfred's eyes.

Arthur pushed the cup towards him. "There."

Alfred beamed and set the half eaten muffin down on the tray. "Did you make these muffins?"

Arthur snorted. "My baking could make those frivolous little things taste like dirt."

"Wow, awesome! You must be amazing, cause these are really, really good. You'll have to cook for me at some point, Artie," Alfred said eagerly.

Arthur scoffed irritably and folded his arms. He didn't plan on seeing Alfred again, let alone...cooking for him.

Alfred smiled, ignoring Arthur's dismissive gesture, and slipped his hands around the hot cup. "Mmmm. Warm," he commented appreciatively, with a little smile that made Arthur's breath catch annoyingly.

"That's generally the idea," he said, turning away slightly to hide the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Out of the corner of his eye Alfred took a sip of tea and after a brief pause, made a face.

"Uh. Um. Do you have any more sugar?" he asked sweetly. Arthur face pulled into a scowl and Alfred put on his best angelic smile. "Please?"

Without waiting for a reply (good, Arthur would be damned if he was going to give one anyway!) Alfred spotted the bowl on the middle of the table, pulled two more packets of sugar from it, ripped the tops off with his teeth, and poured them both into his cup.

He took another drink and Arthur nearly let his guard down and laughed as Alfred desperately tried to make an appreciative expression. It was obvious that he found it barely drinkable.

Arthur admired his bravery at taking another mouthful before setting the cup down and smiling at Arthur, something of the original sparkle gone from his eyes.

It didn't look right. Arthur felt he had to put it back.

"Er...it's something of an acquired taste," he said hesitantly.

Alfred beamed again and Arthur nearly sighed with relief, then wondered what the hell he was doing and told himself to snap out of it.

"I don't know what you mean! It's nice!" Alfred said, swinging Arthur's thoughts back around.

"Oh, ok," Arthur said, unsure what else he should have said.

Alfred pulled his muffin back towards him and took an excessively large bite out of it.

"Nom," he said simply, and Arthur narrowly avoided laughing again.

Alfred swallowed and leant forward with one elbow on the table. "So, Artie, the TeaFairy? Did you set this up, or is it a family business or something...?"

Arthur snorted. "Good heavens, no. I set it up a few years back with the help of a couple of...friends...of mine, and have run it ever since."

"Ooh, cool," Alfred said appreciatively. There was an awkward silence as he took another enormous bite of muffin and then paused. He looked a little guilty and broke off a piece of muffin to hold out to Arthur. "Uh, did you want a bit?"

Arthur scowled at him. "No, thank you."

"Ok," Alfred said, stuffing the piece of muffin in his already crammed mouth.

Arthur made a face. "Your table manners are appalling."

Alfred attempted an angelic grin through a mouthful of chocolate and frosting and only succeeded in prompting Arthur to roll his eyes in disparaging exasperation.

"So," Alfred, cocking his head as if waiting for Arthur to carry on a conversation.

Arthur stared at him, any words that he might have possibly been able to say drying up. "Uh."

"Have you lived in England your whole life?" Alfred asked. Arthur wetted his dry lips nervously and nodded.

"Uh, yeah. I grew up here in Milton Keynes, went to college here, and plan to stay here. I guess it might be nice to travel, but I like it here and I'm still in close contact with school friends I made when I was about seven, and none of us look like we're moving anywhere else in the near future," Arthur answered, thinking of Francis and the other assorted friends that came with him. "Uh, I take it you haven't lived here the same amount of time...?"

Alfred licked the empty muffin wrapper and smiled at him. "Nope. American, me. Nebraska, born and raised. I moved here, uh...maybe around three years ago. My accent doesn't show any signs of shifting though," he joked, and Arthur cracked a half smile before he caught it and stopped it just in time. Alfred carried on as if he hadn't noticed. "My half brother, Mattie, had moved about a year before and I decided to follow him."

Arthur's eyebrows quirked. Half-brother. Hm. "What do you do for a living then?" he surprised himself by asking.

Alfred set the muffin wrapper down and shifted imperceptibly closer across the table. "Anything, really. I draw a lot, comics and stuff mainly, so I live in hope of someone noticing my stuff, but to actually earn money, I, uh, tend to work at Burger King. I-uh, it's not like I couldn't do anything else, I just figure it's a way of earning a little money, and it gives me time to draw and stuff... Yeah... Nothing as interesting as running a teashop," he explained, blushing as if he was a little embarrassed about working at Burger King. Arthur almost smiled but stopped himself.

"It's not that excitingly here, really. The highlight of my day is when Flo knocks over the tea urn or Francis drops in, hits on a customer, and gets slapped in the face. That's always fun," he said. Alfred laughed, and Arthur was surprised as he felt pleased he had made him happy.

"See, a lot more exciting. I just spend the time doodling on napkins between shifts and being friendly and cheerful to everyone," Alfred said.

"At least you'd be good at that. I find it hard to be courteous to people I've known for twenty odd years," Arthur said honestly. Alfred beamed.

"Yeah, but your friends are only true friends if they piss you off once in a while," Alfred pointed out.

Arthur shrugged. "I suppose, I mean-"

Without warning there was a loud crashing noise from the table next to them and a startled cry of "Whoah holy crabcakes!"

"Vi!" Arthur shouted angrily. He turned around in his seat to see the caramel haired teenager on the floor, one of the teashop's chairs lying across her as if she'd leant on it and fallen over.

She yanked her skirt down and groaned into the floor. The few people inside the TeaFairy, who by now were becoming rather used to the strange occurrences in the shop, gradually started to resume their conversations.

"Vi, what did you do?" Arthur asked, already on his feet with an exasperated sigh.

Vi's response was barely audible. "The chair had a hissy fit."

Arthur rolled his eyes and walked over towards her eyebrows raised in derision. Sighing, he held out a hand to help her to her feet, and she grabbed it and scrambled upright, brushing off her grey skirt and blouse as she did so.

"What happened?" Arthur asked resignedly.

"I put a hand on the chair and it collapsed on me," she said. She flicked a stray hair out of her face and Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I can't believe you. Usually Florence is the clumsy one," he sighed. Vi grinned lopsidedly at him.

"Someone has to step in when she's not here," she said. Arthur grinned.

"Why were you even over there?"

Vi answered without a trace of embarrassment or

guilt. "Eavesdropping."

Arthur's grin faded into a scowl. He hadn't even noticed she was standing so close to them, he had been so absorbed in the conversation. For some reason that annoyed him. He folded his arms and scowled again. "Go get back to work."

She poked her tongue out briefly before spinning on her heel and skipping over to the counter, where Peter grinned and mouthed an ironic 'well done' at her. Michelle tittered and glanced in Alfred's direction.

Arthur turned back around to see Alfred grinning at him. Annoyed, he sat back down opposite him and when Alfred kept on beaming at him, started picking at a thread in the tablecloth. "What?"

"You smiled at her. You have a nice smile," he said. Arthur felt himself go red.

"Shut up," he murmured, pulling insistently at the thread and ripping a hole in the fabric. He cursed himself internally.

"No, it's true. I want to see it again," Alfred insisted. Arthur stared at him for a moment and Alfred laughed. Face burning, Arthur looked away. His eyes flitted to the hole in tablecloth and he blushed guiltily.

"I think I should get back to work," he said.

"No you will not!" Michelle hissed at him from across the shop, brandishing an apron in the air as if threatening to throw it at him.

"Can I not have a conversation without every word being analysed and cross-examined by a horde of teenage girls?!" Arthur snapped at her. Michelle had the decency to look a little sheepish, while Vi and Peter collapsed into giggles behind her.

Scowling, Arthur picked the first apron up from where it had landed on the floor, and threw it back at her. She caught it with a grin and hung it back up on its proper place by the fridge.

"Have a tea break," she said, poking her tongue out.

He folded his arms. "But I don't-"

"Denied. Now if your butt leaves that seat again I will have to follow Gilbert's excellent example, and abduct your unicorn toy," she answered.

Arthur scowled forcefully at her. "I run this shop-!"

"And I know some really good hiding places," Michelle retorted.

Arthur blushed, groaned, and turned back to Alfred. "Ignore my coworkers."

"Actually this is kinda entertaining," Alfred said cheekily, sticking the spoon from his cup in his mouth and grinning simultaneously. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Arthur spluttered indignantly. "No! Of course not!"

"Oh okay," Alfred said. He grinned and twirled he spoon around in his fingers. "From your reaction, I'm guessing you're single then?"

Arthur scowled. "Well...yes..."

Alfred grinned. "Same."

"And your point is?!"

Alfred shrugged. "Thought you might want to know."

Arthur felt himself go red. "Well, frankly I don't!"

There was a pause while Alfred just looked in an amused way at him, and Arthur had to grab onto the table as he felt himself slipping into Alfred's enchanting blue gaze.

"So where were we?" Alfred asked, forcing Arthur to snap out of it.

"Uhm," was the only reply.

"Work, I think. Yeah. I've got another shift at Burger King in quarter of an hour. So that'll be fun," Alfred said, taking it on himself to carry on the conversation.

"Why do you work there if you don't enjoy it?" Arthur found himself asking before he could stop himself. He blushed. "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine, honest. I work there because...well, it's money. And the only thing I want to do is draw. And unfortunately that's not exactly a very reliable career choice," Alfred answered.

Arthur felt a grin building inside him and was powerless to stop it. "It's an ambition. I think my highest goal is to complete a week's work without any disasters happening."

Alfred laughed. "Disasters as in...?"

Arthur grinned. "Being locked in the storage room by one of my brothers as a practical joke. Getting our entire sugar supply stolen by this strange little Polish transvestite that drops in from time to time. Not to mention the tea urn being spiked by a certain German friend of mine."

Alfred's incredulous laugh made Arthur's heart skip annoyingly. "Spiked?"

"He poured a bottle of peach schnapps in there the other week. Don't ask about the results. We were all too pissed to remember."

Alfred laughed again. "He sounds like a joker."

Arthur leaned closer and grinned. "When he's not completely pissed off his head and hooking up with random strangers in a gay bar, maybe."

Alfred grinned and took a sip of tea. "Your life and friends sound so much more exciting than mine."

"Hey, there must be some interesting goings on in Burger King," Arthur said, grinning.

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "What, like the old lady on table seven losing her false teeth on a suspiciously thickly-coated chicken nugget?"

Arthur snorted and then started to laugh, and to his surprise, Alfred joined in too, and the two of them sat there, giggling to themselves, like two children. When the laughter faded, Arthur grinned across at him and their eyes met for an overly long time.

Alfred broke the gaze before Arthur was able to, and looked back down at his cup. With some effort, it appeared, he emptied it.

"Well, my shift is starting soon so, yeah, I should probably go now..." He stood up uncomfortably and Arthur smiled.

"Try not to get too carried away with the spectacularly exciting escapades at Burger King," he said. Alfred beamed at him.

"And you. Pour tea. Defend your tea urn."

Arthur laughed again, and felt a jolt in his chest as he realised this was a goodbye he didn't expect he would have to make.

Or be so sad about.

Alfred tipped an imaginary hat. "Seeya, Artie," and then he turned and walked out of the teashop.

Arthur watched him go with sad eyes. He honestly didn't expect Alfred to make the effort to see him again at all.

But he was surprised.

Alfred continued to drop in every day that week, always buying some sort of cake, and, credit given where due, persevering with various types of tea. Their conversations were fun and fast paced, and whenever they parted Arthur always felt an unpleasant and unwelcome jolt in his stomach. Day by day the silences where they would just shyly look at one another would lengthen, and the talk would become more personal, and the more they talked, the more Arthur felt like he knew a fun-loving, caring, kind-hearted American named Alfred F Jones, whose big dream was to publish a comic strip, and whose bright blue eyes were dangerously enchanting, and who loved it when Arthur laughed, and who would do anything to make him do so.

And Arthur was starting to find himself looking forward to the moment each day when Alfred would bounce into the shop with his trademark grin in place.

He got teased about it, of course. Unfortunately, having employed four very giggly girls in their twenties and one sixteen year old boy with an insistent desire to impress those girls, it was extremely hard for Arthur to pass Alfred's frequent visits off as those between 'just friends'. Florence and Isla, the other two girls who worked there with Peter, Michelle and Vi, soon caught onto what was being suggested about Arthur and Alfred's relationship, and continued to make Arthur's life rather difficult by cornering him at various intervals and accosting him with questions about whether he had 'snogged' Alfred yet.

And Arthur's resulting blush and stammered protests that he was not gay on all these occasions only intensified the giggling.

The Friday after they'd first met, Alfred came bouncing into the teashop yet again with his trademark grin in place and of all things, a bright blue shirt sporting the superman logo on his chest. Arthur's heart made the annoying little leap he had come to expect and associate with Alfred's arrival each day, and he set the cloth he'd been wiping the counter with carefully down. He smiled tentatively at Alfred and pushed a strand of hair out of his face.

"Hey."

Alfred came over, leant over the counter towards Arthur, and stuck his face cheerfully in front of him. "Hi," he replied, an inane grin on his face. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, a faint smile pulling insistently at the corners of his lips.

"Good afternoon Alfred. Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, giving in and smiling softly. Alfred grinned.

"Yeah, there is, actually," he said.

"Oh?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows, propping his elbow on the countertop and resting his chin on his hand.. "What might that be?"

Alfred grinned cheekily. "You, me. Dinner tonight. 6 o'clock at Pizza Express sound good for you?"

Arthur's elbow slipped off the counter.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Oh, do you not like Pizza Express? That's ok - there's a good Tapas restaurant not far from here that we could go to if you wanted instead," Alfred said, smiling. Arthur fumbled for any words, any words at all.

"What...? Like a-"

"A date? Yeah, exactly. I'll meet you here at the end of your shift and we'll walk over together, yeah?" Alfred proposed with a smile.

"H-how do you know when my shift ends?" was all Arthur could stutter out.

"There's something to be said about being on good terms with your coworkers," Alfred grinned. Arthur could only stare at him, stunned. "Great, so no Pizza Express - La Tasca it is," Alfred said.

"N-no, Pizza Express is fine..." Arthur stuttered before he could stop himself. His eyes widened. "I mean-"

"Great! I'll see you here at six then!"Alfred enthused, before turning on his heel and walking out of the teashop.

Arthur gaped after him.

What?!

There was a squeal from behind him and Michelle, who had been hiding in the back room, watching intently, emerged.

"Oh my God he asked you out!" she cried excitedly. Arthur felt if his face went any redder he would burst into flame.

"No he didn't!"

"But he so did! You have a date Artie! Oh my God!" she sang, and before Arthur could protest, she had grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"Get off!" Arthur cried, but she held on.

"It's so romantic! Pizza express! I knew it Artie, I knew it! You are gonna fall in love and get married and have little adopted babies-"

And then something snapped inside Arthur. "I'm not gay!" He screamed, shoving her away as hard as he could. She staggered back, stunned.

There was a pause."But Arthur, what-"

"I'm not gay, I swear it!" he shouted back. There was another silence and the small number of customers in the shop looked away abruptly and awkwardly.

Arthur covered his mouth with a hand and ran, scared and confused, into the back room. He collapsed shakily against the wall, memories tugging at him. He grasped onto his apron, feeling like if he let go, he would be sucked into the whirlwind of memories forever.

Memories of hard, cold metal on his back, the rasp of fabric on leather. Belt buckles. White hot pain that never really went away.

Arthur pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

"No!" he gasped. "Please!"


	3. Of Not-Dates And Invisible Spoons

Chapter Three: Of Not-Dates And Invisible Spoons

_**Enjoy~!**_

* * *

Arthur took his hand away from his mouth. What was wrong with him?! What was his problem? Alfred was a good guy! Arthur enjoyed spending time with him!

There was nothing wrong with the two of them going for a meal!

_"What...? Like a-"_

_"A date? Yeah, exactly." _

Arthur wished Alfred hadn't said that.

He didn't want to accept the fact that Alfred obviously felt more for him than Arthur could cope with.

Arthur remembered the last time he'd tried to open up and love someone else. To love a...a man.

No.

Not going there.

Arthur couldn't be gay.

He just couldn't.

Arthur withdrew his knees from where they were drawn up to his chest and slowly stood up.

Breathe.

He'd thought the flashbacks had gone for good. But then again, when something is so deeply ingrained into your memory, it's kind of hard to let go.

Yeah, Arthur had a lot of history. Some that _was_ painful. But that was behind him now. He was a grown man. 25 years old. He had money. He had a job. He had friends. He had...a friend who may like him more than that.

Goddammit.

Arthur ran his fingers through his feathery hair, and took a deep breath before exhaling. He should go apologise to Michelle. As much of a clueless daydreamer she was, Arthur shouldn't have snapped at her the way he had - and she deserved an apology. He felt a little bad. His past was his own problem and he shouldn't have taken his confusion out on her.

Arthur sighed.

The real question still remained. Should he go to the restaurant with Alfred? It would be fun, he knew that. He enjoyed being with Alfred. He made Arthur feel relaxed and carefree and, well, happy.

But then was that leading Alfred on? Arthur didn't want to hurt him just because Arthur was too scared to really examine his feelings. It was true, he wasn't prepared to even think about the possibility of something more than friendship ever existing between him and Alfred...

Arthur started. Why was his mind phrasing it that way?! He wasn't gay! Nothing could ever happen between him and Alfred! He would go to Pizza Express with him. As a friend. Friends went out and had meals together. It wasn't wrong.

It didn't mean he was homosexual.

Not at all.

Did it?

* * *

When Arthur had plucked up the courage and the determination to go back into the main part of the teashop, he was greeted by an obviously sulking Michelle and a soggy dishcloth which she thrust at his face in a "I don't want to talk to you," sort of way.

And so several minutes later Arthur found himself standing, wiping down the counter for what felt like the millionth time that day.

It didn't even need wiping down.

Eventually, after several minutes of awkward silence between the two, Arthur threw the dishcloth in the sink and walked over to Michelle.

"I-er. I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. Michelle turned to give him a scathing look, then shoved the pot of sugar back on the counter. "What was your problem?"

Arthur floundered for a moment. "Uh."

"I was being happy for you, and I got shoved away and yelled at. I want to know why."

"I er. Look, I'm really sorry. I don't know what happened," he said, hating that she was dragging this apology out. Why couldn't it be as easy as 'sorry' and then he could just go back to panicking about his not-date with Alfred?

"You screamed that you weren't gay," she said.

"I'm - not," he said through gritted teeth.

"You know, it's totally fine if you are. Me and all the other girls here are really happy for you that you've found a friend in Alfred. You don't need to pretend," Michelle said, taking a step towards him.

Arthur went red. "It's the truth."

Michelle looked faintly amused. "Okay, sure."

She made as if to move away, then turned back. "Oh, and Artie? If there ever_ is_ anything you want to talk about... You _can_ tell me," she offered.

Under normal circumstances Arthur would have snorted contemptuously, but he didn't want to have to make another apology, and when he thought about it, it seemed she genuinely did want to help. He guessed it would be nice to share some of his past...

No.

His past was his own. No one else's.

Michelle turned again. "What?"

Oh crap, he'd said it out loud. "Um."

"You just said that your 'past was your own'. What is your problem, Artie? Why _won't_ you ever tell me anything about your past? You always avoid us when we're talking about our childhood."

Arthur was faintly aware of his heart starting to thump. "I'll tell you someday," he said quickly, turning away and picking up the dishcloth again for something to do.

Michelle caught his wrist and stopped him from moving the dishcloth. "I hope so. Because I know somewhere beneath all those layers of sarcasm and 'tsundere' as Kiku would say, there's actually a scared guy who can't move on from his childhood. I knew your father, Arthur. I know you haven't spoken to him for years. I know what he was like to his children."

Arthur was sure his heart stopped.

"So just remember you can tell me," Michelle continued, letting go of his wrist.

Arthur nodded dumbly, mouth dry and unable to form words.

_'I know what he was like to his children.'_

No, Michelle.

Not all his children.

Only one.

* * *

It was just a little before six o'clock when Alfred bounced excitedly into the teashop again. Arthur was closing down the shop, flicking over the '_open_!' sign and pushing the tea urn back into place from where it had been pulled out earlier by Flo, who'd fallen over with her scarf tangled around the spout, when the American pushed open the door and leaped inside with an enthusiastic "Yello!"

Arthur turned round and stared at him. "Yello?"

Alfred grinned. "It's a cross between 'yo!' and 'hello!'."

Arthur continued to stare at him.

"Yello!" Alfred repeated, and this time Arthur had to laugh at the absurd greeting.

"You're a nutter."

"An attractive nutter who's taking you out for dinner," Alfred reminded him, with a quirk of his eyebrows.

Arthur felt his body stiffen, but he brushed off the uncomfortable feeling.

"Good evening Alfred," he said, sending a warm smile at him. "You look..."

Amazing.

Dashing.

Handsome.

_Perfect._

"-Cleaner than normal."

Alfred laughed. "You look good, too."

Arthur blushed and looked away slightly.

"So, d'ya want to go walk down to Pizza Express then?" Alfred asked.

Arthur took a breath. Yes. This was just a meal between friends. Nothing more. A fun time together, away from work.

"Sure. Let me just grab my keys and stuff," he said, then turned away. He went into the back room and found his keys, phone and wallet, stuffing them into his pockets as he tried to stop his heart from thumping. He was panicking, he knew. But there was no use in it. He was going out to have fun with a close friend.

Alfred.

Who stood, waiting in the teashop, dressed simply but handsomely in a pair of jeans, a white shirt, and not his bomber jacket for a change, but a sleeveless black jacket with fur lining the neck.

Arthur, who had physically had to force himself not to delve through every item in his wardrobe looking for the right outfit that morning, had opted instead for a pair of tight black jeans, and a checkered green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, telling himself he was absolutely not making an effort.

But the shirt brought out the colour of his eyes, and the jeans were tight enough to emphasise his slim frame, and the overall outfit, although Arthur would never admit it, really, really suited him, and made him look, well, good.

Arthur knew he wasn't drop-dead attractive or special-looking or anything, but at the same time he also knew he wasn't exactly _unattractive_. He was short but slim with a mop of always shiny blonde hair and - though he knew his eyebrows were a little on the large side - the bright green of his eyes tended to draw attention away from them and back to his eyes. His features were small and almost rather delicate, his skin had always been clear (something Arthur was immensely grateful for) and his overall petite size meant his movements seemed altogether more graceful and light than they may have been on someone else. Arthur personally liked the way he looked - though of course he would never admit to something as vain as that.

Arthur was walking out of the back room, thumbing a quick text to Francis to tell the frog that he wouldn't be joining him, Antonio and Gilbert in the pub that night, when he looked up again, to see Alfred sitting on the countertop, swinging his legs and looking mischievously around the shop. His bright blue eyes darting around, hair actually combed through for once, hands tapping a rhythm on the counter, he looked natural, and right, and...

He looked handsome.

Arthur's mouth dried and he swallowed thickly.

"Uh."

Alfred heard him and turned to him. "Heya! All ready to go?"

Arthur nodded dumbly, then started. "Hey, get off my counter!"

Alfred laughed and leaped off, before loping over to Arthur and grinning at him. "Let's go then! Allons-y, Alonso!"

Arthur nearly fell over. "Did...did you just quote Doctor Who?"

Alfred beamed at him and puffed up his chest. "My dear Kirkland, you are looking at an avid fan who has watched every single episode, whether it's Eccleston, Tennant, or Smith, religiously from start to finish, and the proud owner of various absurd and pointless pieces of Doctor Who merchandise."

"Bet my collection could beat yours," Arthur said, laughing.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Have you got a miniature Cyberman body with a Sontaran's head? Because of course I and a pot of superglue would have nothing to do with that particular operation."

Arthur laughed loudly, and was surprised to find it felt really good, really natural. If he just treated this meal out like their conversations in the teashop, he wouldn't have to worry about the implications of Alfred inviting him out. It was just going to be a fun evening. No worries.

And as they headed out of the shop, Arthur locking up behind them, it felt so natural that Arthur almost didn't notice the nonchalant arm Alfred had slung over his shoulders while they walked.

Almost.

* * *

A short while later, the two of them were sitting down, opposite one another, in Pizza Express, having ordered their food, jackets slung over their chairs, looking at one another.

Several minutes earlier they'd ordered their food from a smiley, blonde haired girl who looked no older than 18, with long blonde hair in loose plaits either side of her head and the biggest, widest green eyes Arthur had ever seen, who had introduced herself immediately as Lilli, their waitress for the evening, with a bright smile akin to one of Alfred's before she had even given them their menus.

And after she'd gone there had been several minutes of conversation, of laughter and jokes, but Arthur was on edge and it seemed to have seeped into the atmosphere around them.

And so now Arthur sat, looking at Alfred, Alfred's eyes fixing him to the spot, wanting to speak but not wanting to break the eye contact, wanting to break the eye contact but not wanting to speak.

Alfred shifted to take a drink from the glass in front of him and Arthur's heart jolted at the movement.

He mentally punched himself in the face. What was his problem?

At that moment he heard the sound of footsteps and Arthur looked up, a little glad of an excuse to break the knee-weakening eye contact before he fell off his chair in panic.

It was the waitress, Lilli.

Alfred grinned as she set a plate bearing a handful of mini bread rolls and a pot of garlic butter down on the table between them.

"Enjoy!" she said sweetly, with a little quirk of her head and a bright smile. Alfred grinned at her.

"Thanks, miss," he said, nodding his head. She giggled, the ribbon loosely affixed in one of her corn-yellow plaits bouncing slightly.

"You're welcome!" she replied sunnily, before turning and skipping away, around the corner and out of sight.

Alfred grinned, picked a roll up from the plate and dunked it in the butter before popping it in his mouth with a satisfied 'mmmm'. Arthur laughed and reached for another.

"You know, it's probably for the best we came here instead of that tapas restaurant anyway," Alfred commented.

"Oh? Why's that?" Arthur inquired.

Alfred chewed a mouthful of bread and swallowed before answering. "My friend Toni works at La Tasca - and if we'd gone there, then as soon as he knew that I was there with someone, his mates Gil and Francis and everyone else would turn up and generally ambush us," Alfred said. Arthur gasped and turned white, dropping the roll he was just about to eat onto the table.

"What did I say?!" Alfred cried.

"You know Francis and Gil and Toni?!" Arthur blurted out. Alfred frowned.

"Francis Bonnefoy, Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Fernàndez Carriedo, yes?" he said. Arthur froze. Crap.

"H-how?!" he cried. Alfred's eyes widened.

"You know them too?" he asked curiously.

"Yes!" Arthur cried, panicked. "How do you know them?!"

"Well, uh, let me think. My mate Kiku is close friends with a German and an Italian, Gilbert is the German's brother and the Italian's family is very close to Antonio. I don't know about Francis, I guess he's just part of the package deal," Alfred explained. Kiku...Ludwig...Feliciano... Alfred knew them all. Mortified, Arthur slammed his head down onto the table.

"Artie! Don't die on me!" Alfred cried, shaking Arthur's unresponsive shoulder. "Don't make me give you the kiss of life."

Arthur's heart skippd a beat. "Nngh."

"What's the matter? How do you know them?" Alfred asked, still shaking him. Arthur murmured something of which the only word Alfred could pick out was 'wankers'.

"Artieee..." Alfred whined. Arthur sighed and sat back up, hair messed up and sticking out at odd angles. Alfred smiled at his appearance and Arthur went slightly pinker, hands immediately going to try and smooth out his hair.

"I've known Francis since I was a kid - we grew up together, pretty much. That didn't change as we got older and ended up going to the same college, by which point he, Gilbert and Antonio were inseparable. Not a lot came of college, they were all too concerned with their sex life and I was always off getting drunk somewhere with an...eyebrow piercing and a green Mohican. Which, I guess, is why I now work in a teashop, Francis is a baker - or a patisserie-ist thing, I don't know, who supplies the TeaFairy with all our cakes and pastries, Antonio - as you said - works in a Tapas restaurant, and Gilbert's off annoying people somewhere behind the counter of a Pretzel stand. I'm ashamed to say I still know them and have contact with them on a regular basis," Arthur admitted.

There was a silence, then Alfred grinned. "You had a Mohican?"

"Jesus Christ Alfred, is that all you picked up on from that?!"

"No! I got most of it! But anyway, seriously, you had a Mohican?!" Alfred asked excitedly. Arthur affixed him with a deadpan look.

"Well...yes," he admitted, blushing. Alfred grinned delightedly.

"I _wish_ I had known you then," he said, stuffing a garlic roll in his mouth.

"You really don't. I was a right wanker."

Alfred snorted. "I really can't believe that," he said, mouth full and words mangled. Arthur made a face.

"Charming," he said. Alfred beamed at him and a reluctant smile crept onto Arthur's face. Alfred grinned even wider. "Yeah, shut up," Arthur murmured bashfully, dunking a roll in the garlic butter and taking a bite to hide his blush. Alfred grinned.

"Never mind, I'm sure Francis, Gil and Toni will have some good photographic evidence between them," he said deviously. Arthur froze, roll halfway to his lips.

"If you ask, I will have to come and kill you all," Arthur threatened.

Alfred looked with raised eyebrows at the roll in his hand. "With what? A piece of bread?"

"Shut up," Arthur said, but he was laughing now in spite of himself, and Alfred joined in, and slowly, Arthur started to relax. To enjoy himself. To realise that maybe...this wouldn't be as bad as he had been dreading.

* * *

The meal had gone really well and without any awkward exchanges, and so after a bit of persuasion from Alfred, Arthur had reluctantly agreed to ordering an ice cream sundae between the two of them.

Lilli had been grinning to herself about something when she had taken the order, and so seemed a little distracted when Alfred had asked for an extra spoon so they could share. She'd nodded but them skipped straight over to another table nearby where a pretty young woman with wavy mahogany brown hair that reached her shoulders and an orange flower tucked into it sat laughing across the table from a man with rather feminine features, obviously straightened blonde hair, and a mischievous grin, who was talking animatedly and rapidly to her and the waitress with lots of over-the-top gestures and hair flicks.

Arthur wondered why Lilli was so keen to get over there, but his attention was soon drawn back to Alfred, who had started grinning mischievously and blowing over the top of his coke bottle to make a whistle-like sound.

And so after about five minutes, when Lilli arrived again carrying a tray with the ice cream sundae on it and went to place it on their table with a flourish, it was to see Arthur holding a coke bottle up in the air away from Alfred, who was leaning across the table, laughing, trying to grab it back.

When he saw her, Arthur quickly set the bottle back down at the table and looked at her with an embarrassed blush, as if he was a child caught doing something he shouldn't have.

Lilli laughed. "Your chocolate ice cream sundae, sirs. Enjoy!" she said brightly, with a smile, and then turned and disappeared around a corner, plaits bouncing behind her.

Alfred whooped and grabbed the spoon on the little plate beneath it and stuck it deep into the dessert. Arthur tried not to grin and looked for his own spoon. There wasn't one.

"Where's my spoon?" he asked. Alfred frowned.

"You don't have one?" he replied, his own spoon frozen in front of his lips.

"…No, I just said it for the heck of it," Arthur said sarcastically.

"Oh, that's alright then," Alfred replied, smiling happily and sticking his own spoon in his mouth. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"… I was joking, Alfred," he said. Alfred cocked his head at him, spoon hanging out of his mouth. Arthur tried not to grin. Alfred took the spoon out of his mouth and twirled it between his fingers, frowning.

"About which part?"

Arthur sighed, half endeared, half exasperated at Alfred's inability to comprehend his sarcasm.

"… Honestly. The restaurant hasn't given me a spoon. Idiot," Arthur said, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh," Alfred said, crestfallen. He abandoned his spoon for the moment and turned the plate around to check if the spoon was there. Seeing none, he tapped his spoon against his lips, thinking hard. And then it was genuinely as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head - or about as close as you could get outside of a cartoon. "That's ok, you can share mine!" he cried. Arthur gave him what he hoped was a disdainful look.

"No thank you! I do not want your slobber!" he answered.

"Hey, my slobber is not just any old slobber! It is the slobber of heroes," Alfred replied with a winning smile. Arthur looked at him.

"…It's still slobber."

Alfred grinned at him, and Arthur just sighed.

"Excuse me?! Waitress?" he called out. There was no reply, except for a few of the surrounding families eating their own meals around them looking up and rolling their eyes. The waitress had completely disappeared.

"It's ok! Seriously, you can share mine!" Alfred said, grinning. Arthur scowled.

"I do _not_ want your slobber," he repeated primly.

"I promise to keep my slobbering to a minimum!" Alfred said with a wink. Arthur blushed immediately, and then sighed.

"Fine." He reached for Alfred's spoon, but Alfred clucked his tongue and held it just out of reach.

"It's still my spoon!" he said. He scooped some ice cream up in it and held it out towards Arthur. "Open wide!"

Arthur looked disdainfully at him. Alfred expected him to eat it as he were feeding him? Arthur battled internally as to whether he should give in and let Alfred control the spoon, and the side that found it, well, uh, kinda cute, when Alfred was being childish, won.

Arthur rolled his eyes, opened his mouth dutifully, and Alfred placed the spoon inside it, grinning. Arthur closed his eyes as the smooth chocolate covered ice cream melted in his mouth.

He opened his eyes a crack to see Alfred smiling fondly at him, and Arthur realised how weird this must look to anyone else. He grabbed the spoon off Alfred and licked it to finish off the ice cream left, before giving it back to the American, a blush evident on his face. Alfred shook his head and tutted. He bounced the spoon off Arthur's nose playfully.

"Ruining a perfectly romantic moment there, Artie," he chided. Arthur's chest squeezed and he scowled and rubbed his nose to try and ignore the faintly nauseous feeling creeping up on him at Alfred's words.

"Pillock. I've got a sticky nose now," he said. Alfred looked at him, eyes shining in amusement, lips pressed together in a feeble attempt not to laugh. Arthur met his eyes with a reproachful look and the barely restrained laugh burst from Alfred's lips and he started to laugh.

"Pfffff! You're so funny when you're annoyed at me!" he snorted, shoulders shaking with mirth.

"I do not get annoyed at you for your own amusement," Arthur said, in what he hoped was a dignified manner. He tried to carry on looking sternly at Alfred, but it was proving very difficult as the American just kept on laughing uproariously. Arthur raised his eyebrows and Alfred snorted loudly. Arthur couldn't help it.

He started laughing too, despite the wary feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Okay, stop laughing before ice cream starts coming out of your nose," Arthur said, but Alfred just laughed louder at his words and soon Arthur was fighting to restrain himself from bending double in his laughter. And so the two of them just sat there and laughed, at a table by the window of a pizza restaurant in a busy shopping centre, their own little oasis in the middle of a busy life.

_To be continued..._

* * *

**A.N**

Whoah hi guys! Sorry to have left you on such an EVIIILLL cliffhanger last chapter! Have a nice little fluffy chapter from me!

Sorry for the wait as well - I went on holiday to France for two and a bit weeks so I couldn't update before now, but, well, here you are at last :) The holiday was lovely, and the resort we drove our caravan to was right on the coast, so close we could hear the waves at night, and be on the beach in like 10 seconds.

I wrote fanfics, listened to Gabrielle Aplin and Imagine Dragons on constant repeat, and read the Chaos Walking series for the third time (asdfghjkl by the way), my little sister paddled a kayak and pleaded for me to come with her, my dad did crosswords and fell asleep on the beach, and my mum incinerated our kettle. True story bro.

Yeah, as I was saying, the Chaos Walking series... Gah the feels those three books gave me! I cried three bloody times during the holiday because of those! For anyone that has read them too - let me share my love and appreciation for Davy Prentiss ^u^. For anyone that hasn't - go read them now! The first book is 'The Knife Of Never Letting Go' by Patrick Ness. You MUST read it! It's just so beautiful and moving and feels. Agh.

So yeah, ack, anyway! This update isn't about me, it's about Alfred, and Arthur's dilemma regarding him. For those who were panicking and freaking out about Artie's reaction last chapter, don't worry. This fic will resolve itself happily by the end, in one way or another :). My estimate is it shall be 15 chapters. It should be, but it may turn out to be more, depending on how much I waffle when I get round to writing those chapters XD *Proud face* I am the waffle woman!

Thank you, beautiful people, for all your support so far!

Oh, and yes, peeps, Alfie and Artie's waitress really was Liechtenstein, or Lilli Zwingli if you want :D. You can read her story in my other fic, Breaking The Mould (when that eventually gets posted online XD). That fic also involves Hungary (or Elizabeta) and some matchmaking efforts from Poland (Feliks) who were - for those of you who spotted them - sitting in Pizza Express at the same time as Alfie and Art (and yes, I cut Hungary's hair to shoulder length - I'm so sorry DX). The reason for this and the reason she is having a meal with Poland are probably not what you would expect... And Poland's story with Lithuania (I'm so sorry for what I've done to Lithuania in that fic, I really am) is told in 'A Whole Other Life'. That's quite an exciting one but also rather hard to write. Especially as it crosses plots quite a lot with 'Someone I was Never Meant To Be' - A RoChu adventure style action fic.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you again soon! Watch out for 'To Build A Heart' (SuFin), 'Caffè Italia' (Gerita), and 'One For Sorrow, Two For Joy' (Spamano) - three more of my fics in this universe which are coming up! Warning, they all contain severe feels XP.

As you know, the song for this fic is 'Please Don't Say You Love Me' by Gabrielle Aplin, so I now present you with the link! watch?v=PxNYvk_0Onw . Check it out. It's amazing.

Reviewers are held in extremely high regard and worshipped daily. You have no idea how happy it makes me when I open up my email and there amongst all the spam are emails going 'new review'! I feel like such a noob when I get so happy I end up sort of dancing around because I've got an automated email from website.

Anyway.

Love y'all as always!

Keep dreaming

Charli xxx


	4. Of Confrontations and Kisses

**A.N**

Oooop! A.N is at the beginning! You know what that means...  
Anyway!  
Nice to see you again! Thanks for sticking with me so far, and for all the lovely reviews and stuff :3 it makes me very happy :D  
This chapter wrote itself very very quickly, so I apologise if there are any mistakes and stuff! It was so exciting this one, and I have this perfect mental image in my mind of the end scene :3  
How is your summer going peoples? I go back to school for my last year of GCSEs on the fourth of September - so later than a lot of people! But yeah, just one more year of school uniform, and then I'm college age and I'll be going to sixth form! I'm actually the baby of my school year - my birthday is this Friday (the 30th of August) - and so then I _finally _turn 15!  
And another little tidbit, some people have asked me where my username comes from. My real name actually is Charli (it's on my birth certificate spelt that way p:) but Petidei is a mash up of the French words 'petit' and 'fidei' - which is 'LittleFaith' (a name I called myself for a while. And French is my fave language that I'm learning, so yeah!

The fic 'This Time' (Pol/Liet) is now out! It is in the same AU as thisa but concerning Poland and Lithuania :3 Check it out, i'm really proud of it (all my fics are my babies)!

Anyway, hope you guys are all ok, thanks so much for reading and sticking with me so far, reviews would be _adored_, and love y'all!  
Keep dreaming!  
Charli x

* * *

**Chapter Four: Of Confrontations And Kisses**

Arthur smiled lazily across the table at Alfred, who grinned back at him, a hand resting on the table, jacket slung over the back of his chair. He had quite nice eyes, Arthur supposed; a nice bright blue that reminded him of skies and swimming pools and summer and...  
Arthur pulled himself back quickly, colour rising to his cheeks. Now was not the time to think about...Alfred, and...his feelings for him...  
Focus.  
Breathe.  
"So... Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Alfred asked suddenly, providing a welcome distraction from Arthur's whirling thoughts. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. "I just realised that I never asked."  
Arthur laughed. "Uh, yeah, I do. I have two older brothers, and a younger half sister as well. We're all kind of split up around the UK: none of us live close together anymore. The eldest, Hamish, he went off a couple of years ago to live in Scotland with his wife, and my other brother Jake is travelling all around the country at the moment, just getting work where he can and staying wherever. I think he's working in Wales at the moment. And then my half sister Chloë is younger than all of us and is still at university, studying science in Belfast. I haven't seen any of them for a while. But Jake drops in occasionally," Arthur told him.  
Alfred grinned. "Wow. I just have one half brother. Matthew. You'll probably run into him at some point. He looks like me, but a couple of years younger and with a Canadian accent."  
Arthur looked at him quizzically and Alfred laughed and took a sip of his coke. "My dad ran off to Canada the year after I was born and got another woman pregnant. Hence Mattie. He and I only met one another recently when we had both moved to England and our dad realised it might actually be nice to inform us of one another's existence."  
Arthur laughed and quirked an eyebrow mischievously. "So there's a difference between American and Canadian accents?"  
Alfred looked offended and Arthur laughed again. "Of course! Americans accents are much sexier!" Alfred told him with a grin.  
Arthur snorted derisively and Alfred put his hands on his hips. "It's true! Canadians speak funny. Plus they think hockey is better than baseball! _And_ they sell milk in _bags_. How weird is that?!"  
Arthur laughed again and Alfred joined in, his hair bouncing animatedly with every chuckle. His blue eyes gleamed in the flickering amber light from the candle in the middle of the table - how the hell had it gotten this dark already?! - and the soft blue lights on the wall around the restaurant cast gentle shadows on his hair. Arthur had always thought of Alfred's hair as a golden blonde but here it looked much lighter...like barley in the summer. Alfred's hair was still bouncing up and down as he laughed, and after a bit Arthur realised that he giggling more about the comical bounce of Alfred's cowlick than his original comment. His eyes travelled down to Alfred's eyes and the American grinned at him.  
And again Arthur felt that surge rushing up into him, as he had felt back in the teashop when he'd seen Alfred sitting on the counter...the realisation of how good-looking Alfred really was...  
Arthur felt his face heat up and he looked away shyly, swallowing. "Um, I'll be back in a minute, just going to go the gents," he said breathlessly, getting up from his chair and tucking it ungracefully beneath the table.  
Alfred nodded. "Okay! Just don't be gone too long or I'll look like a total loner!"  
Arthur snorted and held up a brief middle finger, making Alfred snigger, and then turned and headed towards the back of the restaurant, where he was fairly sure the toilets were.  
Arthur located the gents at last, pushed the door open and sighed with relief as the small room revealed itself to be empty. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the sinks and rested his elbows on the cool surface. He looked up and stared at himself in the soap marked mirror.  
Someone had drawn a smiley face in soapsuds on the mirror and it now looked as if it was crying, as the soap continued to drip silently down.  
Arthur guessed he needed a moment to collect his thoughts and slow his breathing. Why did Alfred have to be so goddamn infuriatingly..._attractive_?!  
-Not that Arthur noticed.  
He went red again and awkwardly shifted to turn the tap on, before reaching into the cold flow, and splashing it over his face.  
Shuddering from the abrupt chill, he looked back up into the mirror, water dripping from his face, and to his embarrassment, saw the door behind him swing open. A man made his way inside, and Arthur felt himself involuntarily shrink into himself. The guy was built like a tank, with dark close-cropped hair and metallic grey eyes that Arthur _really_ did not want to meet. He was very pale but wearing a dark grey suit that made him seem angular, stiff, cold. He made his way arrogantly into the room, and as he looked up his eyes met Arthur's, who was still looking at him through the mirror. His lip curled in distaste and Arthur went red.  
Crap.  
Arthur wanted nothing more than to duck under the man's immense arm and run into the restaurant, away from his accusing glare that seemed to suggest a deep-rooted prejudice that didn't seen justified to be aimed so aggressively at him - a mere stranger. And he was staring so cold-heartedly at him that Arthur couldn't help but wonder what he had done to make him dislike him so much. The man glared at him.  
"Faggot."  
Arthur's blood ran cold.  
He turned as if to quickly duck out of the room, but the man was blocking the door.  
Arthur swallowed. "I don't-"  
"You dirty faggot," the man repeated, and Arthur's heart started beating faster, wilder and wilder until it was flying into a frenzied dance in his ribcage.  
"I don't know what you mean," he said slowly despite the roaring in his ears, voice shaking, terrified. He reached up and swiped the water from his face, hand quivering.  
"How can you even sit there?" the man spat, and Arthur flinched though he was still a couple of meters away. "How can you sit there, with us _normal _people, sitting and laughing with him like you're not the disgusting leech on the world you are?! Like you're normal." he continued, a revolted look on his face. "You're a fucking _parasite_."  
_Homophobic._  
The word drifted into Arthur's mind, and he flinched. He knew people like this existed - he'd experienced it firsthand for his whole childhood - but...but he had never expected that there was people who behaved this way to complete strangers.  
The man crossed the room, and leaned closer, leering into Arthur's face. "Disgusting," he spat, and Arthur smelt for the first time the reek of alcohol on his breath.  
Arthur flinched away from him. "Please, I don't-"  
"_Dirty faggot!_"  
And Arthur ran.  
Slipping under his arm, he bolted for the nearest cubicle and raced inside, slamming the door and locking it forcefully.  
He couldn't go back into the restaurant, back to Alfred, like this. He was sure his face was bright red, he knew his breathing was ragged, and his heart was beating so fast he thought he was going to faint.  
He was _terrified_.  
The man laughed, an ugly distorted sound that sent unbidden memories rushing into Arthur's mind. He blanched.  
"You are disgusting," the man sneered, and the walls of the cubicle shook as he aimed a kick at it. Even from here Arthur could tell it was a wild, misjudged, inaccurate swing and as the man swore loudly, Arthur guessed the attack had hurt the stranger more than the cubicle.  
Arthur couldn't speak. He was paralysed, and couldn't help himself shaking as memories leaped up at him, clawing at his body, renewing old scars and reopening ancient wounds, ones he'd thought had healed but he'd simply spent so long ignoring them he didn't notice the severity anymore...

* * *

"You spend too much time with that O'dell kid, Arthur, you need to act like a _real_ man..."

* * *

"I don't want you hanging around with that poofter anymore, boy... He'll go wrong and take _you_ with him..."

* * *

"You shut your mouth, boy, I am your father and if I say he's a disgusting waste of space and you are not to speak to him, you do not speak to him, _do you hear?_"

* * *

"What the hell are you doing? How _dare _you?!"

* * *

Arthur let out a choked gasp of pain, head swimming. Another loosely aimed kick at the door brought his thoughts back to reality, and he shakily wiped the remains of the water from his face.  
Damn it!  
Arthur rubbed at his eyes, shrinking further into himself. No. He couldn't let himself remember. It was too painful.  
A flash of metal burned suddenly through the haze of memories clouding his mind...  
Arthur took a breath. "Go away!"  
The man outside laughed again. "And what, little fag?"  
_I wasn't talking to you!_  
Arthur swore under his breath, desperately trying not to fall into the swirling whirlpool of memories and emotions and _fear_.  
"Disgusting," the man spat again, but there were no more kicks coming. Arthur said nothing, just willed himself not to react.  
There was a slight moment of silence, then Arthur heard footsteps as the man finally walked over the the urinals at the side of the room, and there was the telltale sound of flies being undone, and the man got on with what he'd been planning to do before he'd noticed Arthur.  
Arthur hardly dared breathe. This was not someone he could beat, not somewhere he could run to his room and barricade the door. This was a stranger, with muscles like an ox and such a severe hatred for Arthur that there was no telling what he might do.  
So all Arthur could do was sit there, slumped on the toilet seat, head in his hands, hushing his own breaths and running his fingers through his hair in attempt to feel normal again.  
He thought he'd got rid of the fear.  
But he guessed not.  
The man finished and went over to the sinks, and Arthur finally dared to breathe as the loud noise of water splashing onto the ceramic filled the room.  
There were footsteps again, and Arthur's heart jumped into his throat as he saw the man's shadow outside his cubicle.  
There was another moment of silence, then with a last '_dirty faggot!'_ yelled through the door, the man moved away and the door to the gents opened and closed again.  
Heart still beating fast, Arthur got to his feet and slowly undid the lock to his cubicle. Peeking out, he realised with relief that the man gone.  
Drained, Arthur slumped against the sinks, struggling to breathe properly. In itself, the event wasn't as terrifying as his frenzied heart rate and uneven breathing would have you believe, but it was Arthur's history, his childhood, his previous memories, that made it so much more real, so much more petrifying.  
Fuck.  
Arthur knew he would have to get out soon and join Alfred again. Idly he washed his hands, not knowing why. He looked up in the mirror again, at the soapy smiley face, then scowled and wiped it away.  
His face wasn't as red now. He guessed it was a good a time as any to go back.  
He opened the door and the sudden swell of noise from the restaurant hit him like a tide, but he surged forward against it, until he found the table by the window, and perfect, _forbidden _Alfred sitting at it, waiting for him.  
Arthur smiled shakily at him and was rewarded with a beaming grin back from the American.  
"You took a while. I think I definitely would have classified as a loner for several minutes there," Alfred said cheekily, and Arthur laughed, despite the nausea growing in his stomach.  
_Back to forgetting._

* * *

Alfred had a habit of swinging his arms back and forth slightly as he walked, something Arthur noticed with a fond smile.  
They were walking through the massive car park about half an hour later, after having paid for their meal, and it was late evening by now; the shadows of he streetlights playing over their skin. Arthur dug his hands in his pockets against the cold, his breath coming in clouds.  
"So am I walking you to your car or driving you home or what?" Alfred asked suddenly. Arthur found himself blushing.  
"Um. Well, I've got my car parked nearby, I'll drive myself. Unless you need a lift back...?" he answered, and told himself he wasn't hoping Alfred would accept the lift.  
Alfred smiled. "No, my house is in walking distance, don't worry. So I...guess I'll just walk you to your car then...?"  
"Yeah, sure." Arthur tried dispel the disappointed feeling in his heart.  
They walked in silence for a moment, side by side. And then at last Arthur spotted his car to the side of the pavement, stopped, and turned to Alfred.  
"Well, uh... I guess I'll be seeing you then," he said. Alfred smiled at him and Arthur blushed again, looking away.  
"Sure. I'll probably come into the TeaFairy tomorrow," Alfred replied, with a grin Arthur only just caught out of the corner of his eye, but still managed to make his heart leap.  
There was a pause while they looked at one another. And after a bit Arthur realised he was very reluctant to get into his car and end the wonderful night, but Alfred was showing no signs of walking off.  
"I had a great time tonight," Arthur told him, then flushed. What a stupid thing to-  
Alfred smiled gently. "Yeah, me too."  
They looked at one another again, and then suddenly there was an imperceptible change in Alfred's position, something Arthur would barely have noticed if it wasn't for the streetlight shadows just shifting slightly over his face at the movement. He seemed to be getting closer.  
Arthur felt Alfred's warm hand on his arm and as he looked up to question him, mouth open, Alfred moved to take a step forward.  
Arthur's heart stopped.  
Was he going to...? He wouldn't, would he?  
And then there was no space for thinking or or panicking or worrying because Alfred was so close, so close, and his hands were warm on Arthur's back, and his soft breath was on his lips and his blonde hair was tickling Arthur's forehead and Alfred was leaning down and Arthur didn't know what was going on and crap he was so close and Alfred smelt of sugar and cologne and help help help and Arthur was thoroughly, completely, utterly _terrified_-  
-And then Alfred pushed Arthur's hair back with one hand, leaned closer, and pressed his lips softly to Arthur's.  
The world stopped spinning.  
Every muscle in Arthur's body stiffened, and every instinct, every nerve, every idea that had ever been drilled into him since he was born, started screaming at him that _this was wrong_; but _oh_, how could this be wrong, when this just felt so wonderful and beautiful and _perfect_ and all Arthur wanted to do was just melt into him and fist his hands in Alfred's hair and pull him even closer, closer, closer...  
_Dirty faggot!_  
And Arthur cried out and shoved Alfred away from him with all the force he could muster.  
Alfred fell back, a startled noise of shock falling from his lips. "Arthur? I thought-"  
"Don't! I can't! Please!" Arthur shouted, heart thumping wildly; so fast the blood was pounding through his ears and making it difficult to hear anything else over the roar.  
Alfred pressed a hand to his mouth, shock and shame written all over his features. "Crap Arthur, I'm so sorry!"  
But Arthur wouldn't, couldn't, listen. He fumbled for his keys and scrambled ungracefully into his car, not daring to look back.  
Hands shaking, he started the engine and drove away as fast as he possibly could; Alfred on his lips, and sorry on his tongue, and love in his mind, yet desperate fear in his heart.


	5. Of Hiding Places and Certain Friends

**Chapter Five: Of Hiding Places and Certain Friends**

"Arthur? What the hell are you doing!?"

"I'm not here."

There was a pause.

"I can see you."

"No you can't."

"Uh, yes I can. Why are you hiding out here? I thought you'd grown out of that."

"I'm not hiding."

"Arthur, for God's sake, you've been working in the shop all morning, really quiet and glum and distant. And then five minutes ago you disappeared. Now you're sitting in a cardboard box in the back room, making no noise and curled up like a child. Shoot me if I'm wrong, but it looks a lot like you're hiding to me."

"...Fuck off Virginia."

"No. And my name's Vi. Why are you hiding?"

"Not hiding."

"Oh, for fuck's sake Arthur. Get up and come back into the shop. The TeaFairy needs you."

Arthur looked up to meet her eyes and scowled. "The TeaFairy can fuck off too."

Vi looked like she was close to laughing at him and Arthur narrowed his eyes further. There was nothing that was going to make him come out of the back room and go into the teashop, not at this time in the afternoon, because he knew that in a couple of minutes the door would swing open and:

All of a sudden the bell by the shop door rang wildly and a familiar sounding "Heya!" echoed brightly around the teashop.

Arthur buried his head in his knees.

Vi sighed exasperatedly. "Oh Arthur, for God's sake-"

"Make him go away," Arthur murmured into his jeans.

Vi snorted. "You a such a child, Artie. I'm going to go and tell him you're hiding."

Arthur looked up abruptly. "No!"

But it was too late. She'd already turned and headed back into the teashop. Arthur groaned, then turned sideways and with a defeated '_they can all fuck off_', lay down dejectedly inside the cardboard box he had been sitting in.

He wished it had a lid.

With his nose pressed up against the cardboard, he shut his eyes and tried to ignore the smell of must and dirt. Sighing, he tucked his legs in and wrinkled his nose. He decided to hide as long as possible.

He couldn't face Alfred after last night. He simply couldn't. As soon as Arthur had got into his car, he'd driven straight home to his flat, flung open his bedroom door, run over to his bed, and collapsed face-first onto it. It was too much. It was everything at once, and Arthur couldn't cope.

He couldn't stand the fact that he wanted so desperately to run back to Alfred and apologise and set his glasses further back up the bridge of his nose and lean closer and-

Dammit!

Arthur couldn't be gay. It didn't matter about what he felt or what he wanted or _anything_, he couldn't be gay, because, because...

_"Dirty faggot!"_

Arthur had been so hopelessly scared by the man in the bathroom yesterday, but it was...it was more than that. The stranger wasn't the only man to have aimed that very insult at Arthur. And the other man wasn't so much of a stranger. Arthur had grown up with him.

And if you're taught to believe something your whole life, how can you even _hope_ to go against that?

But then again, when Alfred's lips had felt so _right _against his... And when Arthur's first overwhelming desire was to pull him closer...

No. Stop it.

He couldn't think like that. Couldn't. He just couldn't.

Because no matter what he felt, he wasn't homosexual... He couldn't be, because if he was - which he wasn't - his father would-

"Well, uh...that sure looks comfortable, Artie."

Crap.

Why did his voice have to be so damn _unmistakeable_?!

Arthur opened his eyes, and at first was alarmed to see nothing but brown, then realised he was staring at the inside of the cardboard box and shifted slightly to allow himself more room to breathe, scowling.

"I don't want to talk," he muttered, shutting his eyes again.

Alfred sighed from behind him. "Look, I'm sorry."

Arthur's heart jolted and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. But Alfred carried on.

"I know I was out of line. But I don't want to throw away what we had just because of a stupid mistake-Arthur, are you even listening?" he sighed. "Could you at least turn and face me? I mean, I've spent a whole night practising this speech - do I not at least deserve it being listened to?" he asked, and Arthur's heart tugged painfully at his chest.

But he didn't turn around. "I said, I don't want to talk," he snapped, regretting the venom in his voice as soon as the words had left his mouth.

Alfred sighed heavily and there was a long pause. Then:

"Artie. I can see your butt."

Arthur went red, scrambled onto his side, and quickly sat up in the box, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "Git," he muttered, still bright red.

Alfred grinned and Arthur's heart leaped. "Hey, I never said it was a _bad_ butt or anything. I mean, it's really a very nice butt."

Arthur blushed even more furiously, and as much as he hated to admit it, a smile was tugging - and winning - at the corner of his lips.

"What do you want?" he asked stiffly, fighting against it.

"To talk," Alfred answered. He pushed a strand of hair back from his face and Arthur suddenly felt rather stupid, sitting in his little cardboard box on the floor. He staggered to his feet and stepped out of the box, instantly going red as he straightened up too close to Alfred and had to stumble back in surprise. Alfred grinned sheepishly at him and Arthur had to scowl back to stop himself from reaching out to him and telling him he was sorry, and he was never mad at him, and it was his own fault, and Arthur wanted to...

"Look, Arthur... I... I can't say anything else but sorry. And I... I really am. I'm so sorry, and it won't happen again, and..." Alfred trailed off and Arthur didn't say anything, waiting for him to go on. Alfred looked right into his eyes, and Arthur noticed him flex his hands suddenly, as if wanting to reach out but pulling himself back just in time. Alfred blushed faintly, then looked at the floor.

"Damn it. I knew I would forget what I was going to say," he murmured, and Arthur grinned suddenly. He looked away too, to try and hide it.

"Don't tell me you've been rehearsing this," he muttered.

Alfred grinned apologetically. "About that..."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're a dork."

"Yeah, but a loveable dork at worst," Alfred answered, and Arthur winced inadvertently. Alfred's eyes softened and he put his hands on Arthur's shoulders, looking at his face, until Arthur couldn't help but look up and meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry Arthur. It won't happen again. I promise," he said, and Arthur sighed and nodded.

"Okay," he said, and Alfred grinned at him, letting go and stepping back.

"Alright then. Oh, and by the way, I think some people you might recognise are sitting in the teashop," Alfred said. Arthur blinked at him, and then all of a sudden a loud crash and a distinctive, slightly accented cackling laugh echoed from the teashop.

Arthur's heart sank. "Please don't tell me you invited _Gilbert_..."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "No! He invited himself! And, uh...and Francis and Toni did the same..."

Arthur groaned. "Great."

But Alfred laughed and put a hand on Arthur's arm. "Come on. It can't be that bad."

There was another crash and Gilbert laughed again, this time joined by the unmistakeable voices of Antonio and Francis.

Arthur looked at Alfred, and they both burst out laughing.

"Yeah, sure it can't," Arthur said, grinning. Alfred rolled his eyes and it was only then that Arthur realised Alfred's hand was still on his arm. But he shrugged off the twisting feeling in his gut and smiled at Alfred.

"Ok. Let's get this over with," and he walked into the main part of the teashop.

* * *

Gilbert noticed them as soon as they entered, turning his red-eyed gaze upon them immediately. A wide grin burst onto his face and he brushed his white hair back off his forehead as he raised an arm to wave.

"Afternoon, peasants!" he cried, beaming mischievously. Several customers sitting nearby looked up, alarmed.

Arthur scanned the table they all sat at; noting Francis twirling a teaspoon in his fingers with his trademark smirk comfortably in place, Antonio halfway through a large frosted cupcake - most of which seemed to be smeared around his face - and Gilbert grinning at them with his arm around-

Arthur took a step back in surprise. Alfred was already sitting there at the table. "Alfred, where did you-" he started, but froze again when he looked back to his side - and realised the American was still there.

He looked back and forth in confusion, seeing one Alfred standing beside him, yet another sitting at the table beside Gilbert.

"Okay, Francis, what did you do?" Arthur asked, folding his arms and scowling.

Francis looked affronted. "Hey, why me?"

Gilbert snickered. "How to confuse an Englishman, ladies and gentlemen!"

Arthur folded his arms and turned to the Alfred next to him. "Explanation."

Alfred looked a little sheepish. "Artie, this is my half-brother, Matthew. Matthew, this is-"

"The Arthur I've heard so much about, undoubtedly," the second Alfred continued, with a gentle smile. The real Alfred went red and the other - who Arthur guessed must be Matthew - laughed.

"Uh, hello," Arthur tried, and Matthew smiled back in greeting.

"Hey."

"Artie, this is my boyfriend," Gilbert announced. Arthur's eyebrows must have shot up alarmingly because Gilbert snorted loudly.

"Ooh! Your caterpillars just did a Mexican wave!" Antonio cried excitedly, evidently having emerged from his cupcake at last.

Arthur scowled, walked up to the table where they all sat, pulled out a chair, and collapsed into it. Dammit, if Alfred was going to make everything confusing by having a half brother who looked almost identical, he was going to spot the difference whether it killed him of not.

Arthur studied Matthew's face for a moment, who shrank back in his seat as if he wasn't used to being looked at. His eyes were softer, gentler, than Alfred's, and more violet than blue, and they missed that same perfect spark of childish amusement. His hair was slightly different too - where Alfred's was golden-blonde and slightly spiky, untamed and poking in all directions, Matthew's was a lighter shade, smoother and feathery, curling softly around his face.

"Okay," Arthur pronounced, leaning back at last. "I've got the difference now."

Alfred laughed. "But we don't even look that similar-"

"Yes, you do," Arthur said, at the precise moment Gilbert decided to say the exact same thing. The two turned to each other, then Gilbert smirked and Arthur scowled.

Alfred laughed and fell into the seat next to him, leg brushing Arthur's, who went slightly red and started talking again to cover it up.

"Gil and Ludwig are brothers who don't look alike at all. Alfred and Matthew...you're almost identical. But not quite," he said.

Gilbert pretended to gasp loudly. "You mean you can see the difference between my brother and I?! So I'm not the only one who knows I'm more awesome than him?!"

Arthur rolled his eyes as the others laughed. "Okay, whatever, Gilbert, just remember who beat who when we last had a drinking competition."

"Hey, that wasn't fair, Francis spiked my beer with vodka - I was at a distinct disadvantage!" Gilbert protested. Francis snorted loudly and Antonio giggled reminiscently.

"He was only able to spike it because you were distracted showing everyone in the bar the best way to dance on a pool table," Arthur reminded him.

Matthew started to look a little worried as everyone laughed knowingly. "Gil, er-"

Francis laughed. "Don't worry. He only gets drunk when me and Antonio are with him."

Matthew bit hit lip. "Thanks. That's a huge consolation."

"Francey-pants is good like that," Gilbert said. Francis looked offended.

"Hey, the only one allowed to mangle my name is Artie, and he's been doing it since we were three," he said. He laughed and put on a high, child-like voice. "Fansissy! Fannice! Do you want to play unicorns?"

Arthur scowled darkly while the others laughed. "It's not my fault your name is stupid," he muttered.

Gilbert laughed loudly. "Is that right, caterpillar-brows?"

Arthur glared at him as everybody laughed, then Gilbert pulled a face, wiggling his eyebrows, and Arthur couldn't stop himself laughing. "You're an idiot," he said.

"And you're a stroppy Englishman with an addiction to caffeine and a unicorn fetish," Gilbert answered. "But that's why you're one of my best friends. I love ya, man," he said, grinning at him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're so gay."

"Coming from the man who owns a shop called the _TeaFairy_...?"

Arthur went red. "Shut up, wanker."

Everyone laughed and Arthur scowled at them all, folding his arms.

But despite the expression on his face, despite the fact the Alfred was sitting uncomfortably close to him and peppering Arthur with short, sharp bursts of his smell with every movement, despite the idiots around him that Arthur had come to call friends, Arthur was happy.

Maybe things between him and Alfred didn't have to be so messy.

Maybe they could work it out.

And as long as Alfred kept smiling at him like that, and as long as his perfect smell kept wafting over Arthur, and as long as their knees were pressed together under the table, and as long as they were close enough to keep Arthur's heart fluttering like a hummingbird, Arthur could feel content as he internally dwelt on the forbidden but almost overwhelming feelings in the back of his mind, a small smile on his face even under the scowl, thinking about how nice this was; to be so close and yet so distant from Alfred at the same time. Because from here he could think about what he _might possibly_ feel whilst still convincing himself he didn't feel it at all. So he didn't have to worry about the implications of it.

Ignoring the ever present battle with himself.

Attempting to fight but not really winning.

And of course, at the same time, never giving in.

* * *

**A.N**

Well hello again my darlings! Thank you so much for sticking with me! I know it's taken me longer than usual to update - and I really am sorry for leaving it on a cliffhanger for so long!

Everything at the moment's just been a little hectic, what with getting back into the school routine again and everything, coupled with that fact that I've uploaded two new stories since chapter four came out... Basically I've just been very busy.

Anyway, I've finally resolved my cliffhanger, and everything's sort of stable!

And you'll be happy to know that you have several chapters of happy fluff coming up! However I may be some time with that... Haha... My next target is to get 'This Time' updated, and then 'To Build A Heart' (my fave fic in this AU) uploaded! And then of course not forgetting Caffè Italia and OFSTFJ...

Gah.

Oh well XD it's so much fun!

Update into my life... Uh... Well, I turned fifteen (at last), I got an almost-boyfriend (lol that one takes a lot of explaining), I got asked out by that guy's best friend (DX Love triangles aren't nearly as much fun in real life) and had to say no, I got obsessed with Mumford and Sons, I wrote a song, I reread George Devalier's 'Auf Wiedersehen, sweetheart' for the third time, and I got my hair cut (and guess what, it looks exactly the same!).

Anyway!

Love you all always! Reviews are always beautiful to me :D

Sorry it's such a short chapter! Next chapter will be, uh, fun... XD I'm looking forward to writing it at least!

And see you, either next chapter, or in 'This Time'!

Keep dreaming!

Love Charli xxx


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